


Big Star, Little Star

by Toomanynorns



Category: Ender's Game - Orson Scott Card
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanynorns/pseuds/Toomanynorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ultrashort ficlets and mood-sketches written for the Tumblr Ender's Game fandom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Future Stars

It is like this each time: Valentine and her books, Valentine and her smiles that need to be earned, Valentine striding into city, conflict, community and speaking until she is full, until she can lock herself in her home with her books once more, reproducing them, adding another to their number.

And Ender, staring up at the heavens, sitting on rocks, listening to the tides crash against the coast, watching animals run around the snow, watching cities set alight, listening to the screams, the last howl of a dying man: never speaking, not really, just watching time twist and humanity change.

Until the Speaker came and made a tool of his isolation, his loneliness.

He and Val were both armed after that. It worked until it didn't.


	2. Familial Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> petrabrokanian asked: could i get a oneshot all-the-wiggins-interact-with-petra-and-bean sort of universe alteration maybe

Waiting.

Valentine spent a lot of time doing a lot of that.

But there were worse things to wait for than the triumphant return of her youngest brother; there were worse places to wait than in the Hegemon's personal lounge at Ribeirão Preto Airport. There were snacks, there were drinks, and outside of the brooding expression on Peter's face and the serene-but-clearly-hiding- _something_ on Julian Delphiki's, there wasn't much to complain about.

"Kuso. Can we not sit here and be silent the entire time? I feel like I'm at a wake."

Petra Arkanian clearly had other ideas about the complaining, however.

"Whose idea was it to get these nuts?" Petra added, but Valentine was fairly sure _that_ one was a deliberate attempt to piss Peter off even more.

"Peter's," Bean said easily. "I think he was attempting to impress us."

"I was hungry," Peter retorted. "But not hungry enough for pizza."

"Such grand executive decision-making," Valentine said, then immediately regretted it. Peter had been taking abuse all the way here. Pressing the point would simply anger him more, and an angry Peter was, if not as dangerous to have around any more, at least an easy path to having a really annoying time.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Not everything is life and death, dear sister," he said. "Sometimes we get nice things. Like nuts. And little brothers returning to us from extended vacations in _the Orient_." He waved his hands around to dramatize the point, a habit she wished he'd really grow out of.

"Ender went to Syria, Peter," Valentine replied. "Not a 20th century Asian-exploitation movie."

That just got her another vague wave of Peter's hand.

"Well-spoken," Bean said sarcastically.

"Ia," Petra sighed, "When is Ender getting here? I'll bet he's more fun than the lot of you." A pause. "You excepted," she said to Valentine. "I don't want to punch you yet."

Bean sighed. He looked expectantly towards the door instead, a pointed movement that Valentine felt was passive-aggressive to the extreme. Peter responded in kind by refusing to look at the door at all, and Petra responded by whacking both of them on the knee.

She sympathised.

They were saved from further violence by the doors, which slid open, revealing Ender, a faint smile on his face that was only half (or maybe three-quarters) mechanical.

Valentine was the first to get up, but Bean was fast behind. She hugged Ender first, pulling him close to her chest and muttering, "Thank you for saving me in the nick of time," into his ear, which made him chuckle.

She could tell Bean was dawdling just inches away, so she reached in and tugged him in, knowing Ender wouldn't complain; knowing he wouldn't even complain when a moment later Petra's lithe but muscled arms and body joined their tangled mess of _human_ in front of the gate.

There were strong arms around her, three sets of them, and Peter's glare burning two holes into her back: exactly what home should feel like.


	3. Departing Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> petrabrokanian requested virlomi and this popped to mind. post-shadow of the giant.

She has two bags, a bottle of water, and the clothes on her back. That is all Virlomi will take to the shuttle today. It is all she will take with her to her new planet.

A year ago, she would have embraced this as a sign of humility. Now, three months after her defeat, it appeals to one side of her as a new beginning, while the other half rejects it: it is an insult, a shrine to her fall.

She could have at least had the clarity of mind to go shopping before she left.

But what is done is done. Losers don’t get to choose the trajectory of their fast plummeting towards the earth; they can only choose how they’ll bear it. So Virlomi will bear it her way, one bag slung over her shoulder, one in her hand, her head held up high.

She is alone. Suriyawong threw himself at her feet several weeks ago, promising that he would come with her, but she refused him. She does no longer feel that she is above him, but she is separate from him: with every other inch of her pride stripped away from her, it is her ability to stand alone, confident in her sole personhood, that keeps her head up high.

She has lost. She will not accept sympathy. She bears their stares full of pity as she marches towards the ship, shakes hands, makes promises to the people that follow her. She must remember this, that there will be many who do follow her. Many who still believe. She must remember this and be worthy of it. And she does.

But not in this moment twenty minutes hence, when once again it is simply two bags, her bottle of water and an empty cabin, her expression crumbling in front of the mirror, her shoulders straight.


End file.
